MacromaniA
by Dancing Feather
Summary: No longer representing a country, he was history. "Don't you get it? I'm dead! Nothing! I can't do this anymore. But you- you can. You still have a chance to shine and show them all..." Because sometimes purgatory just blows. :hiatus:
1. eins

Characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya, written by Dancing Feather, inspired from a request from Preussen. Any spelling/grammatical/OOC /historical errors wish to be corrected. I mean it, if something looks not quite right say something. I will not be offended by the fact someone wants to help me improve.

* * *

**Wingless**

He was not himself anymore. His skin couldn't be anymore paler, so instead it became transparent. Like his nails, his hair, his clothes. But the eyes stayed sharp. Lost, but as bright as ever. As bright as history could shine—

A pale pink, really.

In a sense that was a given, it was impossible to be that way anymore. Times have changed. The borders have moved, leaders brought down, governments collapsed. So perhaps it wasn't that he wasn't himself, his environment had changed and he hasn't had time to adjust to it yet.

Two hundred years wasn't enough time to adjust.

"West, hey-" He nudged his brother in the back of his shoulder with a knuckle. "Hey, we should-"

"Hush." Germany batted his hand away. "Do you not see ve are at a meeting?"

_Oh, yeah. Forgot about that..._

"I was wondering why it was so quiet." He gave back a playful grin. He did that on purpose, really. He did not forget where he was. After all, he never forgot who he was.

_I am Prussia._

The only people who could see him were old partners/enemies of the past. Or at least, were more likely to see him on a given day. Younger countries passed him by as if he were nothing, like a human assistant.

"Oh hey, pour me more coffee will you?"

_I am Prussia! Show me some respect!_

"America, dat is my bruder."

_Things might have changed..._

"You have a brother?"

_But do not treat me differently!_

There was something odd about walking in his brother's shadow. Something similar to silent permission, giving him access to information he could not use. Walking in on conversations that no one else would have heard on walking in, as if he never opened the door. Bribes were passed up openly before him, without a blink of an eye.

"_...and the blame gets lifted off of me? No more complaints?"_

"_As if they were dead. Now you understand how this works, aru?"_

He had no idea what to do in those situations. Would anyone who could still hear him, believe him? These secrets were useless.

Every time he followed his brother to a meeting, he found himself constantly surprised with how wide this little planet was. Colours and cultures he never knew existed, talking in tongues far stranger than the ones to the north in a strange little fantasy. Hours late into the meeting, they begin to blend into each other in a big blur- except one. One country stood out from all the others. It didn't make any sense, considering the country seemed just as transparent as he, maybe even more so. Maybe even more so, _but he still exists._

_Just like me._

And yet no one noticed him. Prussia would witness as the young country's mouth would move to say something. But what, he had no idea. He couldn't hear it over the din everyone else caused. The country walked in and out of rooms without anyone batting an eye in his direction. When he was noticed, it was normally when America was out of the room. And then he was always mistaken for the loud, obnoxious blond... _even when he acted nothing like him_.

That was one thing he would admit to gaining, you have a different perspective when your 'dead'.

"Hey, hey Wessie, who-"

"Christ Gilbert, it's hard enough to ignore Italy-"

"Who is that?"

"What?"

"Who is that guy over there?" Prussia even pointed out the semi-invisible man leaning against the counter to make it more obvious to his brother. He watched as his brother Germany glanced over, only a glance before raising an eyebrow to Prussia.

"Vhere are you pointing?"

"To the transparent guy!" Prussia growled, aghast at his brother's obliviousness. "Carrying the beer can! Don't you see him?" But Ludwig did not look over again, instead his eyes locked harder on Gilbert.

"I need to take you home again." His voice had melted immediately from the annoyed to concern.

"What?" Gilbert felt his heart quicken. "No, I'm fine! I'm not relapsing!" _Please no, I'm taking the pills. I'm fine please don't let me go home. Please._ "I'm not- please..." A firm hand gripped his upper-right arm and pulled him up from the table.

"Please excuse us." Germany gave a light bow to the rest of the table as eyes darted in their direction. "I have a minor emergency to fix."

"Hey, when you got to go, you got to go." America shrugged. England preformed a face-palm.

"Don't worry Doistu, I'll take notes for you!" Italy smiled, patting Ludwig's leg. It was obvious to everyone else but the man who just spoke, the look on Germany's face was not one of assurance.

"Yes. Hopefully it von't take long."

Gilbert was finding out there wasn't much he could talk to his brother about. If he talked about the past too long, he started reminiscing. Reminiscing would lead to forgetting. He would lose the ability to speak English, and start asking where Fritz was, or someone else. It depended on the time he thought he was in. When it came to things like that, he could understand his brother's concern.

But then there were the simple mistakes, like forgetting where he placed his house keys. Something he was sure every country has done more than once in their lives, he was treated as if he didn't take his pills or he needed a stronger dosage. Not that he did take his pills everyday. He found once he took them, he started thinking strange things. Thoughts that didn't feel like his thoughts, even though he knew it came from his brain. He wouldn't remember deeper details like the name of his bird, and stranger ones like the silent country that hung out in the corners of the meeting room disappeared completely. Essence and image gone. It was only when the effects of the pills disappeared did he realize there was someone suppose to be there.

So he only took the pills when Germany locked him in the house for the day. There was nothing else to do. He loved talking, but his ears and responses back were not enough. He loved company but the mirrors in the house felt so empty.

He was starving.

_This is why I'm going crazy._

So he took into the habit of escaping. Occasionally he would bump into Hungary or Austria, and he never regretted it. It didn't matter how sour a note the conversation would end. How dangerously close he was to being 'killed' again or threatened to have his brother pick him up. They recognized him and called him by his name. He was a ghost, an albino one at that. At moments like those, he couldn't ask for anything more.

Which brings into question the country no one else but he could see. Did that mean he was a ghost too? It seemed to be even worse for that country, because even if other countries did not recognize Gilbert, at least they outwardly showed that they knew he was there. Walking around him instead of passing through him. Gilbert would have to investigate all by himself. Fine, he preferred things that way. However, it took a good lot of convincing to get his brother to take him to the next meeting.

"You better be on your best behaviour."

"Yes, yes! How many times must I agree?"

"This is the last time." Ludwig said for the fifteenth time, jabbing a finger in Gilbert's face. "Don't make me regret it."

"Yes." Gilbert sighed a smile of relief as he felt the mental handcuffs removed. "I won't make a scene, I promise." He meant it this time too.

He lingered outside the meeting's doorway for the ghost. He knew it would take a while since his brother always insisted on being early to meetings to stop whoever was doodling on the backboards. Pacing back and forth, he stayed to one side of the hallway as other countries filed in.

Then, the ghost came into view.

"Hallo." Gilbert grinned his most friendly, despite what Spain and France had warned in the past about that particular grin. They were just jealous of his good looks anyways. "I was just wondering-" The ghost acted as if he didn't hear him at all, running past him into the room and slamming the door behind. "...you're kidding." He growled, grabbing the door handle-

...to see that it was looked.

"Oh shit. Oh no, please." He whimpered, jiggling the handle on the slight chance it would be jammed. "Please don't leave me alone."

_Please..._

_Please..._

_PLEASE—_

During lunch-hour, Ludwig discovered his brother in the facilities kitchens. Hidden in the back pantries, talking to a sack of rice about the Treaty of Wehlau. Knocking on the closest shelf, Ludwig managed to grab Gilbert's attention.

"Let's go home."

"Has the Markgraf requested me?"

"No. I requested for you. Get up, Gilbert." His voice was stern, his face angry, but it did not seem to faze Gilbert at all, rising from the back and striding over with a grin.

But the closer he walked to Ludwig, his environment altered and his steps grew more meek. Rock walls melted back into smooth cement. Candles snuffed, stretched and coiled with a hollow inside to bring out light from within. Wood changed it's element to metal and soon enough, Gilbert had no idea where he was. Smile gone, he pressed himself into Ludwig, who wrapped an arm around him, squeezing him even closer.

"I..." He gritted his teeth, he felt so ashamed. "I was locked out."

"I noticed."

Nothing else was said to each other as they walked from the building. Gilbert made himself sit in the automobile, despite not remembering it's name or it's exact function. Sitting on the other side, Ludwig strapped in his brother's seat belt.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

* * *

Markgraf (or Margrave) is a noble with power over lords. Gilbert was referring to was Frederick William (no, not THE Frederick. It was a common name before the awesome guy was born).


	2. zwei

**Eggshell**

He walked now across tiled floor away from the meeting room. Not a single footstep echoed in the hallway. None of his labored breathing heard. Matthew Williams might as well not exist. He had the ability to wear the wettest of sneakers and no squeaking would come forth. However, sneakers were not the correct footwear to a meeting. They were however, good shoes to run in. Was it wor_th it though?_

_He was sopping wet when he came running in. Drenched head to toe, a small lake started to form underneath him as he slammed the door behind him. "I'm sorry I'm late!" He blurted as he shook his snow gear from the excess icy water. "Winter looks like he wants to stay a bit longer at my place, eh!"_

_No one responded._

"_Well, that figures." He sighed, dropping his bag and coat by his assigned chair before sitting in it._

"_...we all know what's going to happen." England sighed, rolling his eyes. "It's going to be war."_

"_It doesn't have to be!" Lithuania called out from his chair placed in the far back._

"_Alight." England stood up, a snide look upon his face as he walked up to the front to join Switzerland. "I am very willing to hear the opposing argument, but it's going to have to be a good one if it's going to change my mind."_

"_Who says it has to be a war?" Toris stood, but stayed by Poland's side. "This new land-"_

"_Is over 50 kilometres long!" Korea cheered. His brother who leaned against the wall, stayed silent._

"_It's right between me and Mexico!"_

"_It should be people's vote, aru! So the-"_

"_That's cheating you Asian bastard."_

"_Is new property!" Russia chimed. "Who vouldn't vant it?"_

"_Ivan, if you got that property, you would grow a third chin." Needless to say, there was a Russian topping an American not to long after those words._

"_Hey! Knock it off!" Germany ordered._

"_I'm trying." Ivan whined. "But his face is still zere." Others used to the scene, moved on to the more important facts._

"_Isn't it dangerous? Are those 'volcanoes' still active?" _

"_I personally don't care." America hollered from behind flying fists. "But whatever- ugh! Whatever the boss says goes."_

"_Says the land of the free." Growled Arthur._

"_Hey, I heard that!"_

Matthew now stood outside shivering under his white umbrella, trying to locate the limo he was suppose to ride in. Each black limo had a tiny insignia flag on the front, sides and back. He wasn't the only country with a red and white flag (but it wasn't hard to pick out Polska's car as it had rhinestone trim). He didn't go in for a closer inspection because he didn't like looming near a car which wasn't his. Not only did it feel rude, but wearing all of the casual dark gear to protect him from the weather gave him an appearance of someone who liked stealing cars for a living. But Matthew didn't like stealing cars for a living.

"_Here's the thing though, this island (possible islands) is still growing and at a fast rate. The satellites didn't even pick it up. A Spanish cruise ship that lost it's course on the way to Florida was said to have sunk in the Bermuda Triangle. Two years later we find it in Suriname with quite a tale."_

"_Ah~ Can it be called that any more?"_

"_What?"_

"_It's no longer a triangle, is it?"_

"_ITS ALIENS GUYS I KNOW IT."_

"_Dude, I talked to Tony and all he said was, 'Fuck you'."_

He pushed his glasses back up his nose before taking a wild guess and ran to it. Jumping over the dangerous looking puddles and falling into the deeper ones. Thankfully, his chauffeur recognized him and pulled him out.

"Can't wait to go home, sir?"

"What?" Spat Canada. He didn't speak harshly, he just didn't like the taste of muddy water.

"Do you want to go home?"

"Sure!" Canada waved his arms about to exaggerate. "The weather at home is only twice as worse!" Thankfully he was wrong. The hailstorm he left in had decided to go on break when he returned. Locking the door behind him, he went straight to stripping to his bare skin as he ran to the bathroom.

"I love you hot water, never leave me." Canada whimpered as he stood underneath the shower head.

"_Shouldn't we wait for things to calm down before someone stakes a claim on it?"_

"_While someone else sneaks in? I think not!"_

"_Hey Canada, if you take it you could grow another chin! Then you and Russia would make an even number!"_

Matthew bit his lower lip as he dipped his head into the water, "Dammit America!" He sighed. "Who other than yourself has time to look good any more?" There was nothing wrong with a.... little(?) extra weight. At least he wasn't freezing like some loser who's teeth start chattering when it was just cold enough to see your breath. Plus, he was nothing like Ivan.

Nobody was quite like Ivan.

Twenty minutes in, Matty discovered he was drifting to sleep in the shower. Now, that wasn't safe._ I guess I'll call my boss later. _He sighed, eyelids falling again. He turned off the water, turned off the lights, and started drying himself on the way to the bedroom. He slipped under the blankets and hugged the next pillow that wasn't under his head.

"I see you're home." Said something amongst the pillows.

"Good night, Kumajirou." Matthew turned to groan into one of them.

"It's not night yet." The bear began to groom his right paw.

"I know."

"Hey you, I'm hungry-" But Canada didn't want to hear it. He was hungry too.

"Get it yourself, eh."

"_Where did he go?"_

"_Who?"_

"_Canada."_


	3. drei

**Plucking**

Gilbert was blinking when he noticed that he had a developed a strong liking of bird feeders. How different designs and colours would attract certain birds and frighten others. He would write notes to see if he could recognize returnees of tits, warblers, shrikes and magpies. There was a certain crow that liked the purple feeder with green stripes. He wrote how his own bird would get jealous if he stared too long. Wallcreeper was a cool name for a bird species. The tits liked the smaller hanger feeders. He also had discovered while enjoying his new hobby, that he had a strong dislike for squirrels.

_No trouble,_ he thought, _my bruder has quite the gun room..._

"I got a call." Germany started, arms cross. "From my boss." He ignored the fact that Gilbert seemed to be ignoring him. "Saying dere was the sound of gunshots. Like machine guns. From my house."

"Fancy that." Gilbert continued watching the feeders while stuffing himself with popcorn. "Is it hunting season already?"

"This house is not anywhere near hunting grounds AND machine guns are not LEGAL for CIVILIANS."

"Huh." Was all Gilbert had to say on that subject. Germany gave up and walked into the kitchen.

"Have you eaten anything else today?" He called out as he pulled out plates from the cupboard.

"Yes."

"Other than popcorn."

"Yes." Germany checked the trashcan. All he saw was popcorn bags.

"I'm not buying anymore popcorn."

That grabbed Gilbert's attention. Leaping off the ground, bag in hand, he went into the kitchen. "You're not serious!"

"Yes I am!" He barked right back, slamming the plates down in a near breaking clack. "You may not have a job, but you still need to keep care of yourself!"

"What's there to take care of!" Gilbert automatically shouted back. "I'm dead!"

"Don't say that!" Germany grabbed his arms. He was sick of hearing that, terrified of hearing it. Gilbert tried not to cry under the squeezing pressure. "Don't you dare say that. If you were dead you would not be here."

_I am not working this hard to fail this badly._

"No one can really see me." He tried to shrug, and gave a nervous giggle instead. "Who's to say that's what happened to Rome? Who's to say that Babylonia isn't walking around waiting for someone to recognize him? Or her?" He laughed again. "I don't know! I can do what I want and it won't matter. I'm not affecting any humans and there are no humans to affect me. It's not like I can die again-" He swallowed a cry as Germany pressed him against the refrigerator.

"Dammit Gilbert, I care about you." _Do you think I'm partying at my boss's office? Excepting Italy's invitations? Playing video games when I'm at home? _Ran through Germany's head, but it never touched his tongue, he's said it all before, its never worked. "Don't you care about me?" Was all he could come up with.

"I dunno, do the dead care?" It came out before he could stop it. Germany released him, allowing whatever was in Gilbert's veins to flow down to his fingers. The two stood awkwardly in the kitchen, staring at the white linoleum floor.

"I'm- I'm... sor-"

"I know."

The awkward silence continued and it ate at Gilbert. He lived for the lively atmosphere, laughter and parties. He knew his brother while sterner appreciated it too, or else he'd have nothing to do with that Italian. There was a time when weekends meant going to the bar, getting smashed and teasing your brother for being such a queer. Get kicked out for having better singing voices than the rest of the pub. Can't pay the cab driver rubles because all you have is euros. But now they hardly saw each other anymore. Even though they live under the same roof; when they saw each other- it's always this.

They were not having fun anymore.

Gilbert felt like crying, but he was sick of it. It wasn't him, so he chuckled instead. "Who is the elder brother here? I'm sorry, I forgot."

Germany didn't respond, he didn't know either.

_One..._

"What did they think of the plan, Canada?" His boss tapped at the desk nervously. Tired, but eager.

"It never became my turn." He blushed, embarrassed as normal as he fiddled with the files in hand. "Mexico had her piece, then they skipped past me to America, eh."

"That's too bad." His boss leaned against his chair, giving a bit of ponder. "Well, this new problem is a definite global issue, with so many unknowns there are going to be a lot of new meetings piled on top of one another. I'm sure you'll have another chance at another meeting." Canada didn't really believe it, but he decided to let it roll since his boss was new.

"But sir, we can't afford that now. This winter has really been catastrophic. We need new winter shelters, our food stocks have dropped quite a bit, eh."

_I'm tired, _was left unsaid. _I had breakfast and I don't even feel it._

"Now there, that's mine and your people's job to take care of." He shook his head. "You need to go out there so we know how the other countries are fairing. You said Russia was looking well, maybe he knows something we don't. Try to get on his good side. See if he'll let anything slip..."

_Let anything slip? I can't tell when I'm talking to him normally if he's had two bottles of vodka or ten._

"Yes sir."

It wasn't noon by the time Canada walked home but he could already feel his back aching caused by all of his tired people. Fingers were worn as if he had been hammering nails to wood since midnight. He hadn't been on his feet for long, but they cold and raw as if he had been digging at this damn snow since five months back nonstop. Where was spring? Soon enough it's supposed to be summer.

_I wouldn't mind some vodka myself._

Being Canadian, he just helped himself to some canned beer instead.

_...at..._

"You should do it."

"Vhat?"

"Ask Italy to a date." Gilbert shrugged as Germany coughed his drink up on the dinner table. "You always say no vhen he asks anymore, it vould be a cool surprise."

"No it von't." Ludwig dropped his fork on the plate as he whipped the liquid up from table, face and shirt. "You may not recall, but that's finished." Gilbert made a raspberry before waving it off.

"For your information I do recall. So what if it was more than one woman? They were all Italian! You might as well just call it masturbation by our standards-" Gilbert flinched as Germany hit the table with a fist.

"He may be bi. You may be bi. But I am not, please excuse me if I don't understand the appeal." Ludwig was tense, disgusted and nervous. Gilbert got it, but if he remembered correctly, this happened three years ago. Time to move on and find a middle ground.

"So, if he fucked a man-"

That was it. Germany decided it was bedtime for Gilbert.

_...a..._

"Yo bro, mind if I help myself?" America waved a beer in Canada's half-awake face before opening it up. He moved himself from behind the couch Matthew sat on to the coffee table in front. Sipping the can, he sat down on the maple table whilst pulling a doughnut from his pocket.

"Yes." Canada moaned, pressing himself further into his brown furniture. He stretched out a hand to Alfred, who hung the doughnut on his thumb before pulling out another for him to feast on.

"Nothing like pastries and beer." He garbled through drink and food. Canada slid down so he could enjoy his doughnut at horizontal level. His glasses were sliding off of his face, but he already knew what the ceiling looked like, so he didn't feel it was worth it to push it back into place. "So I was thinking," began Alfred food still being chewed away, "this whole new island thing has got to be someone's science experiment gone wrong."

"Not yours?" Matthew rose the eyebrow closest to Alfred.

"Not that I'm aware of." He shrugged. "But you know, Ivan has always wanted a piece of land in the warmer climate. England's got to be sick of all of that rain. Liechtenstein could be sick of being so tiny. China is..." His now doughnut-less hand reached skyward, trying to think of the word.

"China."

"No, work with me here man." America pulled out another pastry, it was not a maple bar. "He's a communist, so somethings gotta be going on."

"I'm drunk," finished with his food offering, Canada removed his glasses so he could comfortably place an arm over his face, "leave me alone." America stuck out his lips in a mock pout.

"You don't mean that." Canada stayed quiet, knowing America wasn't going to leave unless he put effort into it, and he didn't feel like giving effort to anything at this moment. "Listen though, I've got this really cool idea." America placed his beer aside so he could have his hands free for speaking. "Suppose this island isn't the cause of any country."

"Like an unnatural natural land formation?"

"No, better than that." He grinned. "I can just see it now, pasted everywhere on the internet: The Atlantians Make Comeback, Want to Take Over the World!"

"That's something you save for Hollywood, or is that idea too original for that?" Alfred frowned,

"You could have just said you didn't want me here."

_...time..._

Germany cleaned the dishes, the cups and utensils. He wiped the table and vacuumed the popcorn remains from the carpet. He was careful to pick up Gilbert's journal and sketchbook, along with the occasional printer paper used as notes. He made sure to look and read each page. Somewhere he thought, he would find something that would help him understand his brother better. Fist flipping through the homeless papers, the journal, then the sketchbook.

Birds were a common theme, but it wasn't the only thing. Buildings, people, and recreations of old paintings redrawn with a simple pencil. Drawn realistically to the absurdly cartoony. Things that for some reason would not erase properly were scribbled harshly on and then labeled in bold letters, 'NOT AWESOME' and 'TOTALLY NOT COOL'. Ludwig found himself chuckling to a picture of a 'land' shark eating a certain screaming Austrian. As he continued to flip to the more recently drawn, a new character popped up among the others. Light coloured hair cut to the chin, slightly wavy. Wearing glasses and heavy clothes, always loo_king uncertain. Even when he had the greater edge, panting, looking down at Ludwig with a gun jammed into his chest-_

"_This damn ridge is mine, eh."_

_I've seen him before._

* * *

Linoleum was invented by an Englishman. What I think the best part about it is that it's pronounced the way it's freaking spelled. I know! One of the rare times English actually obeys it's own rules! On a sadder note, my computer also has three different spellings for a pastry with a hole in the middle. I don't know which one to take.

For those wondering, the last bit was a tiny reference to the Battle of Vimy Ridge (brought to you by the abbreviation, WW1).


	4. vier

**Gizzard**

With the kindly offer that Gilbert would call Italy and date him himself Germany practically threw him into the next world meeting.

"Stay vith me at all times."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Don't get lost."

"Can't do that if I'm with you, can I?"

"No smart-ass comments."

"Then no backtalk from you."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

Hungary ground her teeth as she slipped her left hand into frying pan-space. If Gilbert dare thought he was going to lift her skirt again, she was going to make sure the offense was never repeated again. Austria hadn't noticed the coming of the dead German yet, despite his ex-wife's murder vibes, has he was focused on making gestures that pissed off Switzerland.

"FINE."

Meanwhile, the American brothers together had a hangover strong enough to make Ivan limp (as in his leg (the ones with feet on the end of them), don't get your minds in the gutter yet.). Both of them wore shades. Alfred with his mirrored aviators and Matthew with his simple wayfarers. Both stumbled in, America nearly falling over Japan as Canada slipped into his chair.

"FINE!"

"America, remove those now! And that is no proper way to enter this room!" England who drank as a common routine and was probably immune to the dark creature known as the hangover, did not seem to recognize America from 'goofing off' from 'urgh, pain'. All America saw was no sympathy.

"Just shut your face, man." He groaned as he hit his head on the table. Japan cautiously patted his back. "It's too bright in here." Canada gave a moan of agreement, but it was not heard. Mexico walked up to the front, giving a cough of attention, then a cough of a medical condition.

"Will everyone p-please be seated?" Her face held a small smile, her dark eyes held a small plead. "I wish to talk about t-the ash and-" cough "and other strange air particles t-that" cough "are now airborne." "Has anyone with the proper equipment collected samples?" Naturally, everyone looked in America's direction who at this point and time was dead. Japan, with a voice so calm only Mexico and those nearby could hear,

"No, sorry. We've haven't yet." She looked hurt by the response, but stepped down for the next country's turn. At this point in time Vash was starting to wish the no-weapons law was revoked long enough for him to go home, grab a sniper (like an SSG-3000) and pick Roderich off from a distance. Wait, the law didn't have to be revoked, because he wasn't going to bring the weapon inside! Vash then mentally entertained himself on various ways Roderich's head could explode. Not that a sniper rifle could do that, but he did recently watch an American movie.

It was sometime in the meeting where China started talking about trains that created energy on friction Gilbert found his ghost. It started out simple enough, he just had to find a chair that looked empty. Empty, but if he stared at it long enough a coloured shape would appear. The more he watched, the less transparent it became. He was not imagining things, there was a country there. If he was imagining things, it would be like entering a dream. Seeing dead people, talking to them without once questioning how they could still exist.

_Brandenburg._

He felt hims_elf fading,_ _Brandenburg._

That was the main reason he didn't take the pills. If he was lucky, he could see her. See Brandenburg at her prime. Playful, teasing, a prankster just as he. How they would deface Wessie's buildings and shout insults at Austria from afar.

_He slammed the door behind him, throwing water stained shield and sword aside he grabbed her by the shoulders. "He refused us! Saying such a move would deface the meaning of marriage!" He cried, but she didn't. She stood still so his tired frame had something to lean against._

"_Be steady Prussia, Polska does not know love."_

"_Be steady? How dare he!" He slid down, his hands trailing her sides as he went. "Dammit, I am not so weak that I have to bow to that bastard!"_

"_We will show him," she whispered, stroking his drying hair, "we don't need papers telling us how we should feel."_

Bright red hair like the screaming eagle that replaced her. A dancer, not a fig_hter... so fragile... so, so fragile. She hasn't been moving around recently, saying her joints hurt. Strange, she still looks so young. "Funny, I don't feel like getting up today." No, she doesn't look so young. Wrinkles that carve her body just appeared over night._

"_Is there anything I can get you?" I said, holding her arthritic hand. "Just say the word."_

"_No, not today." She smiled. "I don't feel like talking much either..."_

_But she did so anyways, for his sake._

"_But please remember this, I love you. Please take what is left of my strength, you are going to need it."_

_What?_

_She's gone. Not in battle, there was no blood. She neither shed it nor coughed it. This wall that is breaking- why is it that I'm so worn, but you are the one who faded? I remember dying, my limps ripped, stolen from me by greedy countries. Poland, despite barely able to stand himself, made sure to carve slowly the desired pieces._

"_Equivalent exchange." He spat the access blood from his mouth. "Blitzkrieg... Who's the master race now?" Sorry, can't hear you. Having no ears tends to do that._

_I could not walk when Russia calmly arrived, a smile so sweet I felt seduced by it. Seduced with the feeling of closure. He dragged my torso and my head with it. Do what you want, I don't care. Just finish me. I'm sick of feeling my brother screaming._

_He says something as he holds me close. The vibrations from his chest is soothing. Yes, finish me now. I always wondered what it was like on the other side. I want to see where she is. High above or down below? We can still beat Poland, we can still be toge-_

"_East! East can you he_ar me? Stay with me! No, stay!"

_But no, apparently death is too good for me. Or did I die? I'm not a country any more, am I? Why did you fade? Why am I still here? Are you in me? Could it be that when you find someone the perfect fit... is that what it means to become one? I'm not sure I like these vows of two flesh becoming one anymore. _

_Forget it, it never happened. Why did you fade? Why can't I touch you? No, stop-!_

Gilbert was ripped from that train of thought as he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder. Startled, he jumped. Germany no longer seeing his brother trembling, pulled his chair closer to him. "I'm right here." He whispered, now gripping Gilbert's hand instead. "There vill be a break soon, and we can go home. This island business has nothing to do vith us anyways." Gilbert's lungs deflated as he leaned against Ludwig.

"No, let me stay." He felt mentally drained, but he could still see the ghost across the table and many chairs away. That was why he is here, and he wasn't going to mess up this time. Germany still shook his head.

"I'll bring you next time, but only if I witness you taking your pills." Gilbert squeezed the hand that held it, but it did no good to reflect anger. No country, no military strength. Eyes half-lidded, he felt empty again. Empty and sleepy.

_Who is the older bruder now?_

Venezuela was sitting back down when Canada felt a feeling prickling at the back of his mind, and it wasn't the migraine. In fact, this feeling was something he hadn't had for over hundreds of years. So he couldn't recognize it, nor knew how to react to it. Taking his fingers behind his glasses so he may rub his eyes, he tried looking around at the possible cause before realizing it might be something at home.

"Sorry, I go to go, eh." He grabbed his coat and briefcase and left. No one noticed-

But Gilbert witness it. Stealing what little energy he had left, he slipped from his brother's side and followed after.

* * *

Sorry I went Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn on you. I did it because it felt appropriate for Gilbert's brain. Anyways, for people who don't know history- BAM. For those who know their history, do correct me asap if you see anything off. I don't want to continue this with inaccuracies concerning future events.

Frying pan-space is an obvious reference to hammer-space. That is what animators call the large invisible pocket near the character where they can suddenly pull out a large object from basically nowhere. Hammers are the most common thus it being called hammer-space, as suppose to vodka-space.

For my readers who don't know how to anger the Switz (other than invading personal space), here's an easy one to remember. You know the hand gesture 'off with his head?' In Swiss that means, "I'm finished with this bullshit, you're dead." Yay, now you're smarter! Now don't do it.


	5. fünf

**Uncinate Process**

Canada hadn't gone too far down the hallways when he felt ice slip under his clothes, skin, and flesh as it tapped his bones and fell out again from his back. Almost certain something dreadful had happened at home, he stiffed a gasp. However, instincts to pull away from the unknown danger had him whipping around and hitting the wall. As he looked around, he saw nothing else but the hall plastic plant. Yet, something said something not to far away from where he sat.

"Hey! Don't ignore me! Did you not hear me calling you?"

Holding back tears, Canada whimpered as he hugged himself. _Great, my subconscious has even realized that I'm so lonely it decided to make me a friend..._

"Hellllo!" Gilbert rose an eyebrow at the most pathetic ghost he had ever seen. Are they not suppose to be terrifying? If not poltergeists, at least creepy? Chill you to the bone? Gilbert had tried to grab the ghost's coat but it slipped right through his fingers. He told himself that was because it was slippery from being wet. _Can ghosts get wet? _"What's your name?" He rose an eyebrow as he watched the ghost chuckle,

"What? Myself doesn't even know my own name?" It didn't look like it was whispering, but Gilbert had a hard time hearing it just the same. He walked closer to the ghost causing the transparency to not be as obvious anymore.

"Yourself?" He walked closer. "Why wouldn't you know your own name?" Canada was beginning to feel very nervous. The voice didn't sound like it was coming from his head, it really sounded like it came from a legitimate source like a human- a country's mouth with teeth and a tongue, not that far from where he sat. His eyes kept glancing up in that direction, but they kept telling him there was nothing there. It might have well just be air.

"I don't know," The ghost shrugged. "ask me."

"I am!" Out of frustration Gilbert kicked him, aiming for his knee. He didn't feel any contact but the ghost yelped just the same. "What is your problem?"

"I thought it was obvious." Canada rubbed fiercely to return the warmth and feeling back into his leg.

"No."

_I guess not,_ thought Canada, _my subconscious has really done me in now. It really thinks it's a separate being. What does this represent at home? _His stomach began to tighten up as dread began to well up inside him. _They couldn't wait for the government to fix it. _Eyes widening, his insides felt crushed. _I __going to have a civil war. _"What is your name?" He tried hard to steady his voice.

"My name?" Gilbert scratched the back of his head. He asked the name of the ghost and it wouldn't give it to him, and now it asks for his? Well, it's not like him to deny a request of himself. "It's Gilbert." He jabbed a thumb at himself. "Gilbert Beilschmidt."

_He already has a name. My enemy already has a name. They've been organizing this in secret. _His legs were shaking, but he forced them to hold his weight just the same.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"I'm sorry, I must go home. Surely you understand why."

No, he didn't. Gilbert wanted to explain to this ghost exactly why he didn't, but the specter had already run off. Leaning against the wall Gilbert sighed,

"What a weird guy."

"Are you talking about yourself?" Gilbert jumped as his brother smacked the back of his head.

"No!" He hissed, grabbing the back of his head. "I just saw-" Gilbert's words tripped over themselves as his mouth put on the breaks. The last thing he needed to do to his brother was to make him think he needed stronger pills. He looked back in the direction he saw the ghost man run. He knew the difference between an illusion and whatever this was. Or at least, after they finished. An illusion leaves you feeling empty. This gave him something else. Something... warm. Besides, he felt himself to have a better imagination than to make up someone who looked a lot like America and wear simple, bright clothing. He knew fashion. It might have been old and out of style now but dammit, it was fashionable.

"Vat did you see?"

It was real, but his brother didn't know... yet.

_I'll solve that._

"Cat. I saw a weird cat."

"A weird cat guy?" Germany narrowed his eyes. He was inclined to not believe it but Greece was actually at the meeting today. He had no idea what those cats were supposed to represent on Greece, but whatever it was it was common and it involved Japan and Egypt. He had no idea what those three could be doing, but he felt he'd rather not know. Before Ludwig would allow Gilbert to defend his claim, he had a more important matter to discuss. "How did you slip away like dat?"

"What?"

"I vas sitting right next to you. I vas holding your hand! How did you slip away?" Gilbert held out his hands to inspect them. Ludwig waited for the excuse, but when he heard it he wasn't ready.

"Ludwig, have I ever appeared... transparent? Not there?"

_Please, never._

"Only ven you are spacing out. No, you have always been as obvious as a glare."

"Thanks- hey! Was that an insult?"

_I am not losing him._

_**Remember to breathe, remember to breathe!**_

He was not falling apart. He is not splitting, he is not going to have a rebellion. He is tired and hungry, and what just happened is the result of hallucinating.

_I am not splitting apart. I am not falling..._

He found himself standing in the rain, searching for his limo. Spotting a waving hand in the distance, behind all of the other limos, he ran in that direction, not caring what he looked like at the end. He threw himself into the back and started to remove his drenched shoes and socks.

_It's Quebec isn't it? Quebec is acting up again!_

But the name didn't sound French, Matthew realized as the car drove out. Reaming his jacket, he watched through the window as the weather changed from rain to hail. Banging against the windows and the roof, he could barely hear the sound of the news from the radio. There was no doubt, all crops, all outdoor work would be.

_**Gilbert Beilschmidt, who are you?**_

"Italy, can I talk to you?" Ludwig shifted uncomfortably, trying to appear confident but not really feeling that way.

"Sure, Doistu! What is it? How are you doing today? The weather hasn't been too bad, has it? I miss going outdoors to paint, but did you know, to try painting in the rain and it makes the paint all runny! Maybe I should switch to water colours on these days. Are you going to say no if I ask you out today?" Italy was so eager to talk to him, it was like turning on a broken faucet. Water spewed everywhere.

"I- uh..." Germany blinked, trying to process the information as fast as it was given. "Yes."

"Yay!" Italy cheered, hands flying above his had.

"I mean no."

"Veh~" The top half of Italy's body suddenly lost all support, dropping like a marionette. "Make up your mind!" He whined to the floor.

"Don't change subject on me." Ludwig tried stiffing his appearance, but his face was failing miserably.

"But all you asked was if you could talk to me-"

"Has my bruder ever looked transparent to you?"

"Transparent?" Italy cocked his head to the side. "No. Why?"

"Nothing." Germany shook his head, backing away. "Nothing at all."

* * *

I'm sorry I'm taking so long to update. I wish I could write like STWW, you just can't stop that guy.


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